


The Further Adventures of Dr J H Watson

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: More vignettes from the life of Dr John Watson, loyal companion to Mr Sherlock Holmes.





	1. When Shall We Three Meet Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DW's Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2018
> 
> Chapter titles often are the prompt, but not always

Sherlock Holmes emerged from the British Library, blinking in the sudden sunlight.  He glanced at his pocket watch, noting if he walked briskly he would still make the planned train.  He set off at a smart pace, the results of his investigations safely stowed in his inside pocket.

Half an hour earlier Dr Watson had stepped out from 221B Baker Street, intent on catching the same train.  He could have taken a cab, but the day was pleasant, and he had a number of purchases to make on route, so he had chosen to walk.

Upon arrival both men went straight to the platform, where they nodded to each other and boarded the waiting train.  Shortly afterwards a third man joined them in their compartment, less than a minute before the train departed.

As the train drew out of the station, Watson said, “I feared you would miss the train, Lestrade.”

“Not I.  I’m as keen as you are to bring this unpleasant business to a close.  And you, Holmes, were you successful?”

“It was indeed as I expected.  I have copies of the documents here.”  He patted his jacket.  “And the originals are safely under lock and key.”

“And I have bought the chemicals you requested, so you should be able to prove the presence of the substance, however disguised it may have been,” Watson added.  “Do you think there will trouble?”

“I’m prepared.”  Lestrade indicated his trouser pocket.  “I’ve brought my revolver.  And you?”

“Of course.  It seemed the wisest course of action.  And Holmes has his stick.”

“Then despite the absence of thunder, lightning and rain, we three have met,” Lestrade said.

“And it will not be long before the battle has been lost and won,” Watson added.

Holmes quirked a smile.  “And all ere the set of the sun, as the Bard would have it.”


	2. Trimming

“How are you getting on, Aemelia?” Dr Watson asked.

“It’s almost finished.”  Aemelia held up the Ferret’s waistcoat for Dr Watson to see.  “I’ve nearly sewn on all the trim, and it will be ready for him.”

Dr Watson admired the waistcoat, which was bright red, with gold brocade sewn in a swirling pattern on the front.

“The hat’s almost ready too,” Aemelia added.  “Mouselet just has to trim the loose threads and the Ferret can try the outfit on.”

The Ferret, meanwhile, had been practising some complicated dance steps, and fallen flat on his face.  Mouselet giggled and the Ferret scowled at her.

“Will it improve the dancing?” Dr Watson asked.

“No,” Aemelia replied.  “But he’ll look impressive when he’s standing still.”


	3. The Poisoned Tea

“It’s poison all right,” Holmes said, looking up from his test tubes.  “I’ve found traces in what was left in the tea cup.”

“But no trace of it elsewhere?” Hopkins queried.  “Do you think it was administered directly into the cup?”

“No, it would work better if it was diluted in advance.  So the whole pot of tea would have been poisoned.”

Watson put down his own cup of tea with a start.  Hopkins looked over at him, and Watson said, “Sorry.  It just made me think.”

Lestrade, who had arrived earlier to consult Holmes on a different matter, and who had been persuaded to stay for tea while he waited, said, “Do you want me to let Mrs Hudson know you thought she might be trying to poison you?”

“What, certainly not!”  Watson looked affronted.

“But we didn’t find any tea in the pot,” Hopkins said.

“Which in itself is suspicious.  Florence White said she had washed it up, once she had poured both her and her sister, Edith, a cup,” Holmes said.  “We cannot tell whether Florence had any tea herself, but we do know it was a parsimonious household, and the teapot would have been left in case Edith wanted another cup.”

Hopkins nodded.  “And of course Florence couldn’t risk washing Edith’s cup up, because she was going to claim she found Edith dead on her arrival back home.  She had to hope no-one would choose to inspect the dregs.”

“Precisely.  So, Hopkins, I have given you the method.  And I believe you already have the motive.”

“We do.  And we have Florence White’s young man, who I suspect will be happy to share everything he knows as soon as he realises this was a murder.  Thank you, Holmes, your help has, once again, been invaluable.”

 


	4. Double Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: may cause Victorian ladies of a delicate disposition to have the vapours

It was Holmes’ fault.  It normally is.  Had Mrs Hudson been around she would have made a remark, probably a caustic one, but nevertheless sufficient to alert me.  Lestrade would have made a more tactful if indirect comment, which might have indicated to me there was a problem.  Hopkins was useless, but I shall have to let him off on account of his age.

For reasons which I do not need to go into here, Holmes had persuaded me to perambulate in Regent’s Park in the guise of a dowager lady.  Normally this would be Holmes’ role, but since he currently had his arm in a sling this had been deemed unadvisable and I had therefore been pressed into action.  Fortunately the day was sufficiently inclement I was able to wear a muffler pulled up far enough to conceal my moustache.

I realise my gait might not be quite accurate for an elderly lady, but I was surprised at how many strange looks I was receiving as I began my stroll.  One or two of the urchins I encountered actually dared to giggle and point at me.

As I continued I began to feel I was fulfilling the role of a great-aunt.  The sort you are admonished, when a child, to keep a straight face when you meet her, and ignore her peculiarities.

Finally I saw Hopkins in the distance and made my way towards him, trusting that he would explain the situation to me. 

However, after one look at me, he said, “Dr Watson, you should return to Baker Street at once,” and then went bright red. 

He looked as if he was about to force himself to accompany me back, but I turned haughtily away from him saying, “I am perfectly capable of making my own way home, thank you.”  Thereby, incidentally, fulfilling the role of great-aunt in its entirety.

Once back in 221B, I asked Holmes what the problem was.

Holmes looked me up and down and then said, “The lace from your pantaloons is showing beneath your dress.”

“What?” I shouted, outraged.  “Holmes, you could have told me before I went out.  No wonder Hopkins blushed.”

“Hmmm.  Yes, nanny wouldn’t have approved.”

“Nor did the general population of Regent’s Park this morning.  And nor do I!”


	5. Going Grey

“Good afternoon, Lestrade,” Sherlock Holmes said, “You’ve just missed Bradstreet.”

“I saw him earlier, he mentioned he would be calling in on you,” Inspector Lestrade replied.  “His case sounds as if it’s right up your street.”

“And what about you, Lestrade?  What have you come to consult me on?” Holmes asked.

“Mine’s a purely social visit.  Mrs Hudson happened to mention she was making a seed cake, so I thought I’d drop by.”

Dr Watson laughed.  “We did ask Bradstreet if he wanted to stay for some tea, but he was in a hurry.  Oh, and I notice he’s looking slightly different at the moment.”

“Yes,” Holmes agreed.  “It would appear he’s been covering his grey hairs.  For some reason he wants to show a younger appearance.”

Watson sighed.  “Another man who wants to attract a young lady.  He never struck me as the type.”

Lestrade chuckled.  “I don’t think that’s the problem.  Hopkins is temporarily lodging with them, and is in receipt of Mrs Bradstreet’s attentions.”

“And Bradstreet is jealous,” Holmes said.

“I can’t see Hopkins encouraging her,” Watson said.

“He’s not,” Lestrade replied.  “Hopkins says she’s practically force feeding him and he’s looking forward to moving into his new lodgings next week.”

 


	6. A Chance Encounter

Watson slowly made his way down the street.  It was always hard telling a wife there was no hope for her husband, especially when there were children in the family.  She had looked at him and said, “It’s the street for me then, Doctor.”

He was still musing on the matter when he reached Baker Street and found Inspector Gregson about to knock on the door. 

As they entered Gregson said, “I don’t suppose you know anyone who could help my wife’s mother a few hours of a morning, do you?”

Watson smiled.  “As a matter of fact, I do.”


	7. The Famous Mr Sherlock Holmes

A few days earlier, Dr Watson had been contacted by an old army acquaintance.  The colonel and his wife had moved to the family estate following the death of the colonel’s brother.  The colonel had become suspicious of some of the activities happening locally, and, concerned they might be related in some way to his brother’s unexpected death, had invited Holmes and Watson to visit.

It hadn’t taken Holmes long to discover the truth behind the events, and to establish that the death was indeed accidental.  Holmes was satisfied that although the cause of death wasn’t quite as recorded on the death certificate, there had been no malicious intent, and the main reason had been carelessness on the part of the colonel’s brother.

Delighted with the outcome the colonel and his wife had encouraged Holmes and Watson to stay for the rest of the weekend.  Watson had been enthusiastic, Holmes less so, but nevertheless he had agreed.  That was before they realised this would include attendance at the vicar’s garden party.

When they arrived at the garden party, the villagers all crowded round Holmes, asking him questions, and encouraging him to try his luck at the various sideshows.  Holmes was trying to sidle away when the vicar arrived and, having learnt from Watson’s accounts Holmes was a keen musician, invited him to listen to the church choir.

Watson and the colonel glanced at each other, and, satisfied no-one was watching them, slipped out of the side gate and walked briskly back to the colonel’s house.


	8. Mouselet - Staff Reporter

“I presume you’ve read the article in the current edition of the _Marylebone Monthly Illustrated_ ,” Holmes said.

“Yes,” Watson replied with a sigh.  “She’s accurate, I’ll give her that.”

“Possibly not your finest hour,” Holmes agreed with a chuckle.

Watson glared back at him.  “Might I remind you whose idea it was?”

Holmes ignored this, and returned his attention to the publication in question.

***

I have been asked by several readers what Dr Watson and the Ferret were doing whilst I was retrieving the ring with Mr Holmes (and incidentally assisting the most wonderful Inspector, with the beautiful eyes).  I have taken a careful note of the reports made by all concerned and have compiled a true and proper account.

In the process, I have left out some of the words the doctor used, to save on the number of asterixies required for the print type.  I have also taken some of what the Ferret told us with a large pinch of salt – of which we have plenty, since Inspector Lestrade knocked over the salt cellar as he was trying to demonstrate what happened.

So, whilst I had gone with Mr Holmes to Grimes’ Warehouse, Dr Watson, the Ferret and the barrel organ, accompanied discretely by Inspector Lestrade, had headed to a square behind Euston Station. 

Dr Watson was wearing the organ grinder’s costume, which had been brushed and repaired and looked okay from a distance.  The Ferret was wearing a bright red waistcoat, with gold brocade trim (which wasn’t real gold) and a little red hat with a gold tassel.  The costume was designed to draw all attention to him (not that he objects) and away from the doctor.  The Ferret doesn’t look that much like a monkey, but he’s closer to that than the doctor to an organ grinder.

The barrel organ was a bit battered, and one of the notes was out of tune, despite the Sloth’s best attempt, but it didn’t make much difference, because Dr Watson isn’t gifted at playing it.  When he was practising we had trouble telling whether he was playing _Any Old Iron_ or _Boiled Beef and Carrots_.  Apparently it’s a lot harder than I thought.  I couldn’t do it, but then I’m a small mouse, so turning a handle would be impossible for me.

When they arrived in the square, the doctor began the music and the Ferret started to dance.  A crowd of layabouts soon gathered, and, strangely, began cheering.  The Ferret, encouraged by their enthusiasm, danced even faster (he says he was practically a whirring dervish, but when he tried to demonstrate to us, he fell off the table, so I’m not convinced).

The crowd drew closer, and then two of them pushed the poor doctor backwards.  Another said “I’m having the monkey,” and made a grab for the Ferret.  The barrel organ was knocked over.

Inspector Lestrade blew his police whistle and went to help the doctor, for these were not outraged music lovers, but part of a gang who were running a protection racket.  Hearing the whistle some of the crowd ran away, because while they were happy to watch a fight, they had no intention of being there when the police arrived.  However, three of the men remained and turned their attention to the doctor and the inspector.

The man who’d grabbed the Ferret wasn’t part of the gang, simply someone who wanted a monkey.  I’m not sure if monkeys bite, they probably do, but the Ferret definitely does.  He bit hard, and the man let go of him and ran off.  The Ferret hurried to help the doctor.

Fortunately, the doctor had been prepared for something to happen and was fighting back.  In addition the gang hadn’t expected the inspector to be there, so he’d got in a few quick blows, taking one man out.  And with the Ferret biting hard on any gang member’s leg he could find, they weren’t doing too badly when the police constables arrived.

The gang were quickly handcuffed and taken away; one complaining that he’d been bitten by a rabid dog.  The Ferret wasn’t amused at that.

Inspector Lestrade went back to Scotland Yard to begin interviewing the gang members.  The Ferret retrieved his hat, and he and Dr Watson returned to Baker Street.

You will be pleased to know Dr Watson was only bruised and has now recovered fully.  The Ferret’s waistcoat survived surprisingly well, probably because all the seams were strengthened to allow for snacking expansion.  The barrel organ has gone to be repaired.  We are all hoping this will take a very long time.

Inspector Lestrade was very happy at the outcome. 


	9. Pterodactyl

Holmes and I were about to leave for an afternoon recital when a gentleman burst into our rooms, declaring, “You have to help me at once!”

We could hear Mrs Hudson on the stairs, so Holmes called out to say all was well.  He then turned to our intruder and said, “Professor Challenger, what can we do for you?”

“I have lost my pterodactyl.  You must help me to find it,” Challenger replied.

“Of course, dear fellow.  We’re on our way to hear a violin recital, would you care to join us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  We don’t have time to waste on that.”

“In which case,” Holmes replied with a smile, “May I suggest you meet us in Regent’s Park at the main gate to the zoo at four o’clock.”

Challenger snorted and departed, slamming the outside door as he went.

There had been much talk about this creature of the professor’s, and I was rather surprised at Holmes’ lack of interest in the matter.  However, he seemed completely unconcerned, and I took my lead from him.

We arrived at the gates of the zoo at four o’clock.  I hadn’t been certain whether Challenger would appear, but he was there waiting for us, looking even more agitated than before.  Holmes led the way and we soon found ourselves in the reptile house.

“Is this some kind of joke?” the professor snapped.

“No indeed,” Holmes replied.  He pointed across at one of the crocodiles.  Perched on top of the partition beside it was what I assumed to be the missing pterodactyl. 

Challenger looked as if he was prepared to make a lunge for the creature, but a closer look at the crocodile made him reconsider.  Instead, he rushed out, presumably in order to locate a keeper who could help him.

“How did you know?” I asked Holmes.

“The Sloth mentioned the pterodactyl’s whereabouts to me this morning.  Apparently she was feeling lonely and had gone looking for company.”

“Do we need to stay and help him retrieve her?”

“I believe we have already had our entertainment for the afternoon.  Let us make a swift getaway before he returns.”

I made a quick sketch to remind myself of our brief adventure, but omitted the pterodactyl for I felt she would prefer not to be recorded.


	10. Taking A Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Broom Cupboard 'Verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/310173)

_Watson’s Diary entries_

How lovely it is to be at the coast.  The landlady at this boarding house was most apologetic she could only offer me a small room at the top of the house, but I was not intending to complain.  This is a popular seaside town, and I was late booking a room.  By a strange co-incidence Inspector Lestrade is also staying here and has the only other room on this floor.

***

Almost missed breakfast this morning.  The landlady was not happy at my late appearance and was only slightly mollified when I said I had been so tired after a week of treating my many patients I had overslept.  Lestrade explained he too had had a busy week chasing criminals.

In future Lestrade will set an alarm.

***

After being late for breakfast yesterday we only just made it for supper today.  Lestrade and I had gone for a long walk along the cliffs, and then, having found a secluded spot, we had sat down and spent a pleasant hour enjoying the view.  Unfortunately we had lost track of time and were forced to hurry back.  I explained we must have gone further than we realised, but the landlady was not sympathetic.

***

Went sea bathing today.  We were a little tardy reaching the beach, so there was only one bathing hut available.  Lestrade and I said we would share it as we were anxious not to miss the tide.  In fact getting into our bathing costumes took us quite a while, but we did have time for a brief swim before we donned our everyday clothing.  Bathing huts are not very big, and so, with two grown men inside, it did take rather a long time to get dressed.  I am not sure it warranted the man we had hired the hut from banging on the door and shouting ‘’Ere, are you two comin’ out or not?’

***

Returning to London today.  I shall miss the smell of the sea, which is a considerable improvement on the smell of some of Holmes’ experiments.  But I shall be glad to see Mrs Hudson, who is a much more understanding landlady than the one here.

I wonder whether Holmes has paid for the replacement door to the broom cupboard.


	11. Hats, Hats, Hats!

We were fortunate to have such a talented milliner with us.  The Ferret was very grateful to Aemilia Vole; she had made him a number of hats, most recently the red hat with the gold tassel for his role as organ grinder’s monkey.  Although Aemelia did not make Holmes’ hats, she was able to add the trimming for some of his more unusual headwear.

Now she was working on Mouselet’s outfit for a tableau Holmes was creating.  Mouselet was delighted with her hat which was in a cheerful yellow, with a peach ribbon and peach coloured flowers embroidered over it.

 


	12. Four Seasons by Mrs Hudson

The poet says autumn is the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.  Which would be lovely if one didn’t have to deal with the somewhat unpleasant results of the season.  I can forgive the doctor for bringing the dampness inside when he returns from visiting yet another patient with a chest infection; the mists are scarcely his fault.  However, Mr Holmes’ share seems to be the mellow fruitfulness, or as I tend to see it, the fallen leaves, bits of nut or berry, and churned up mud which inevitably accompany his reappearance, and that’s without the dreadful soil sample experiment.

Winter sees Dr Watson wrapped up in thick scarf and gloves whenever he ventures out to visit a patient.  I make a point of ensuring there is always a fire for when he returns.  It is not a good time of year for Mr Holmes to conduct experiments which result in poisonous fumes, thus needing to open the window.  There have been at least two occasions when I have heard Mr Holmes advise the doctor to keep his scarf and gloves on when he has entered their rooms, with Dr Watson’s sharp reply that he is going to his club.

I do like spring, and the promise it brings for better days.  It seems to lift the doctor’s spirits too.  It is also the season when a young man’s thoughts turn to love, and the housemaid’s thoughts turn to marriage.  Which means I am therefore forced to bring in a new girl and it can take a while to find one who is prepared to stay.  Not that Dr Watson is a problem, he is always polite, but Mr Holmes can be a challenge.  And convincing the latest housemaid that we do not often experience flaming curtains is never easy.

Summer is the best season of all.  It’s not difficult to persuade the doctor that some time spent at the seaside would be good for his health.  And I have Inspector Lestrade to thank for encouraging this venture.  Mr Holmes is a little more difficult to dislodge, but I can normally find a good excuse; last time I announced we had been overrun by ants, which wasn’t strictly accurate, but I had seen one ant and I wasn’t taking any chances.  As soon as they return I leave for my own holiday at the Juniperus Boarding House for Stressed Landladies.


	13. The Werewolf

“Holmes, you are being entirely irrational,” Watson said.  “Werewolves do not exist.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Holmes replied.  “There are more things in heaven and earth …”

“There is no need for you to quote Shakespeare.”

“You may be surprised.  It is full moon tonight.”

“I believe I know you well enough to be able to say you are not a werewolf.”

“There are others we may meet tonight.”

“I doubt Lestrade is a werewolf, and, unless you are suggesting Mrs Hudson is one.”

“Oh no!  Don’t even let her hear such thoughts or we will be suffering with overdone eggs from now till the next full moon.”

They had reached the top of the stairs and Holmes flung open the door with a flourish.

On the windowsill, illuminated by the moon, stood a small shadowy figure, howling.

“Holmes,” Watson said, “If I agree that werewolves exist, do you think the Ferret would stop making that awful noise?”


	14. Gloucester 1895

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the August Bank Holiday in 1895 the French balloonist, Auguste E Caudron launched a hot air balloon from the rugby ground at Kingsholm in Gloucester, and up to 5,000 people were able to make a 'captive ascent'.

Holmes looked carefully over the city as it was spread out beneath us.  Suddenly he cried out, “There, can you see it?”

Holmes’ eyesight is better than mine and I was forced to admit I could not.  However this did not detract in any way from his enthusiasm, for he added, “Thank you very much, M Caudron, I have seen all I needed.  Could you take us down now, please.”

We descended once more and climbed out of the basket which hung beneath the balloon.  I would have liked a couple of minutes to recover from our trip, but Holmes set off at once, calling out, “Follow me, Watson.”

He led me through a confusion of small streets, which I assumed he had memorised from our time aloft, until finally we reached our destination.  There he knocked on the front door, and when a small maid answered, told her he was Mr King, come for his package.

The maid went to tell her mistress, and shortly afterwards a formidable lady appeared.  “Edward King?” she asked.

Holmes nodded.

“Here, take it.”  She thrust a small parcel into his hand.  “And I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again.”

“You won’t do,” Holmes assured her.

We made our way to the station, but it wasn’t until we were safely on the train to London, in a carriage we had to ourselves, that Holmes removed the package from his coat pocket and examined the contents.

“Mycroft will be pleased,” he said.  “It seems the papers are all here.”

“Will the lady be in trouble when the real Edward King calls for them?” I asked.

Holmes smiled.  “Edward King did not exist.  I imagine they chose the name because King Edward II is buried in the cathedral and it would be an easy name for whoever was sent to collect the package to remember.  It is entirely possible the original courier has already been arrested, and if not, he will probably assume the plans were changed after he was given the commission.  No, you do not need to be worried on her account.”

I settled back in my seat, and having admired the scenery of the Stroud valley, dozed until we were forced to change trains at Swindon.


	15. A Missing Treasure

Inspector Stanley Hopkins had called in to see us one afternoon, and as I passed him a cup of tea, I noticed he was a little less cheerful than usual.

“Is something the matter, Hopkins?” I said.  “You seem a little under the weather.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing really.  Nothing important anyway,” Hopkins replied.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you for asking, but no.  I’ve lost one of the pocket handkerchiefs on which Nanny embroidered my initials, and I was just wondering where it could have gone.  A trivial matter.”

“But sentimental nonetheless.”

“Yes.  And you’d think me ridiculous.”

“I live with Sherlock Holmes.  I have learnt never to count anything as ridiculous,” I replied with a smile.

Hopkins smiled back, before saying, “The thing is, if I know I’ve a particularly difficult day coming up, for whatever reason, I make sure to put one of Nanny’s handkerchiefs in my pocket.  It seems to help.”

“I can understand that.  And I can assure you it certainly is not ridiculous.”

Whilst we had been having this conversation, I had been aware of a certain amount of squeaking coming from Holmes’ bedroom.  Just as I finished speaking there was a loud thud from the same direction.

“Holmes,” I said, “Something must have fallen over in your bedroom.”

Holmes, who was in the middle of constructing what appeared to be a complicated jigsaw from newspaper cuttings, waved a hand in the general direction of his room.  So I went to see what had happened, being sure to close the bedroom door behind me.

I found what looked like a very small ghost rising from one of the drawers of Holmes’ chest.  I walked over and picked up the cloth to reveal Mouselet underneath.

“This is my inspector’s handkerchief,” she said.

I looked at the SH embroidered in the corner.  “How can you be sure?” I asked.

“That one smells different from Mr Holmes’ ones.”

Since Mouselet was certain, there was no reason to argue. 

I went back into the sitting room, and said, “Just a sudden breeze blowing things over.”

Holmes glanced out of the window at the trees which were perfectly still, raised one eyebrow, and returned to his task.

“But I happened to find this,” I continued, holding out the handkerchief.  “I don’t suppose it’s yours by any chance?”

Hopkins reached out to take it and smiled.  “It is.  Thank you very much.”

“Pleased to help.  You must have dropped it here and Mrs Hudson found it and washed it, thinking it was one of Holmes’.”

Hopkins left a few minutes later, and I was delighted to see the spring had returned to his step.  As soon as the door closed, I heard a happy sigh from the mantelpiece; Mouselet was clearly as happy as I was at the outcome.

Holmes looked up and said, “The thud?”

“The Ferret!”

 


	16. Escalated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is thanks to Gardnerhill, who, following a ficlet I wrote describing the visit of Mrs Hudson to Harrods (where they offered a tot of brandy to everyone who went up the escalator) suggested 'escalated' would be a suitable euphemism for someone who had had a few too many.

Billy opened the door to 221 Baker Street just as Sherlock Holmes arrived.  “I got your note, Mr ‘Olmes.  Although it does look like it’s not just the doctor who’s escalated.  Shall I give you a hand?”

“Yes, please, Billy,” Holmes replied.  “I’d like us to get upstairs without Mrs Hudson hearing us.”

“I’ll do me best, but I’m not sure it’s going to be easy.”  He cast a critical eye over Dr Watson and Inspector Hopkins, who were currently leaning on each other.  “Where’s Inspector Lestrade?  You’ve not lost him, have you?”

Holmes gave a low chuckle.  “No, I pushed him into a cab, and paid the cabby to take him home.  I shall leave Mrs Lestrade to cope at the other end.”

Billy nodded.  “Right.  Do you want to take the doctor, and I’ll take the other gent?”

“Yes,” Holmes replied.  “Come along, Watson old man.  Just a few stairs to climb and you can have a sit down.”

“Excellent!”  Watson smiled and started to sit.

“Stairs first, then sit down!”

“I can’t let go of Hopkins, he might fall over.”

“Billy will take Hopkins and you and I will lead the way,” Holmes said firmly.

“Righto!”  Watson began to sing, “Show me the way to go home …”

“Ssshhhh!” both Holmes and Billy hissed.

Slowly they started up the stairs.  Halfway up Hopkins began to croon something, and Watson said loudly, “You’re not allowed to sing here.  They’re not music lovers.”

All four paused, then, when there was no sign the other members of the household had been disturbed, continued on their way.  Finally, they reached 221B and Holmes pushed open the door and staggered inside, Watson having apparently decided to try going to sleep with his head on Holmes’ shoulder.

“Watson can use my bed,” Holmes said.  “There’s no way I’ll get him up another flight of stairs.  Hopkins can have the sofa.”

While Holmes manhandled Watson into his bedroom, Billy pushed Hopkins onto the sofa.  He began to snore as soon as his head touched the cushion.

Shortly afterwards Holmes came back out.  “Thank you, Billy, that will be all for tonight.”

Holmes had just removed his coat and shoes when Billy tapped on the door again.  He was carrying a tray with two large jugs of water.  “Mrs Hudson says to make sure the gentlemen drink these,” he said.


End file.
